


Little Lies

by HopeStoryteller



Series: Daedric Red [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls: Legends
Genre: Backstory, Blades, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sick Character, Thalmor Being Assholes (Elder Scrolls), Windhelm (Elder Scrolls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: Adrasea can't tell her son the truth about what happened to his father and brother, not now. But if not now, then... when?
Relationships: Forgotten Hero/Tyr
Series: Daedric Red [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804663
Comments: 11
Kudos: 6





	Little Lies

Somehow, Windhelm feels even colder now. What little part of Adrasea is thinking logically at this point concedes that much is impossible, it just feels colder because the  _ world _ is colder. Completely out of the blue, half of her family is… gone.

She should have  _ known, _ even though there was no way either of them could have. She should have  _ known _ that the Thalmor wouldn’t have given up, that their reach would extend even into the heart of Skyrim. She shouldn’t have agreed to go home with Tyr. She should have taken him home with her, thrown him over her shoulder and sprinted for Morrowind if he hadn’t agreed. Nisil would have liked him, even if he hadn’t forgiven her. It would have been better than  _ this. _

Adrasea is under  _ no _ illusions about what happened to Tyr. She just thought… hoped naively that he would have a little more time. She should have known. She should have known  _ better. _ But it was supposed to be a short hunting trip, heavy emphasis on short. After all, he’d had Gaelin with him.

She should count them all lucky that Gaelis had been too sick to go. Miserable as he is, it might have saved his life.

“Al… Alma?” Gaelis asks, softly. He breaks into another coughing fit. Catching it herself be damned, she goes to him, holds him, puts a hand on his forehead. He’s burning up. What if he…  _ no. _ Adrasea will  _ not _ lose her remaining baby to  _ sickness. _

“What is it, little one?” Adrasea smooths his sweaty curls back. Hesitates, briefly, then puts an arm around him.

“Where’s… Dada? And Lin?” Gaelis hacks into a balled up fist. When he recovers, he looks at Adrasea and whispers, “A-Alma? What’s wrong? Why are you wearing Dada’s cloak?”

Adrasea closes her eyes and tries not to cry. Judging by how concerned even her feverish child looks, she hasn’t entirely succeeded. She pulls the red cloak a bit closer, before thinking better of it and pulling it around both of them.

“They’re…”

Adrasea can’t tell him the truth. Not now. Without his father, the Thalmor will have no reason to want him dead. And, of course,  _ she _ never was a Blade. It’ll be safer for both of them if he doesn’t know, not until he’s older and the Thalmor (hopefully) have lost some of their power and reach.

She cups a hand under her son’s chin, looks into his red-brown eyes—and her decision is made for her. There never was a decision, not really. Adrasea just hopes that, someday, when she tells him the truth—that he’ll forgive her.

“They aren’t coming back, Gaelis,” Adrasea whispers, and at least  _ that _ is the truth but that alone is enough to make her son freeze up against her. She holds him closer and continues, “Your dada and brother got… very, very sick.”

“They died,” Gaelis murmurs, and how can Adrasea lie about that? But then he looks at her, tears already forming, and says in an even smaller voice, “Am I going to die? Rolff says that elves don’t go to Sovngarde…”

“Well,  _ Rolff _ is a…” Adrasea cuts herself off before she can accidentally teach her son more swear words than he’ll undoubtedly learn on his own. “Don’t listen to Rolff. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But he’s—“

“He’s just a bully. Don’t listen to him.” Adrasea clears her throat. With a hand on Gaelis’s shoulder, she promises, “You’re not going to die. And if you were, I’m sure you could find Sovngarde if you wanted to. I’m sure that’s where Dada and Lin are now.”

“But they didn’t die in combat?”

But they  _ did, _ or at least Tyr did, Adrasea is sure of that but Gaelis  _ can’t know. _ So instead, she says, “What is sickness, but another form of combat? You’ll overcome it. I know you will.”

And Gaelis does. Many years later, when he gets himself exiled from Windhelm for nearly killing the same old bully, Adrasea can’t help but wonder if that’s her fault somehow.

If it’s her fault at all, it’s her fault that she didn’t teach him to finish the job while he had the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck the Thalmor (or don't, have some standards.)
> 
> And yes, little Gaelis grows up to be the Last Dragonborn. His dad would be so proud...


End file.
